The Dangers of Fantasy: A Cautionary Tale
by Thistlescratch
Summary: When Kaoru and Misao, both talented young authors, become obsessed with a world of their own creating, they are cut off from the world around them. Is it, however, worth it? AU oneshot


Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin, and that is probably a Good Thing.

I swear, I didn't know this was going to happen. I know that the two of us were both too old for make-believe, and that we both really had better things to do with our time, but it was always such a fascinating game that we found ourselves returning to it day after day, and even though I know exactly where it ended, I've never been sure exactly how it started. It was definitely here, at this summer program where Kaoru and I met. Instead of band camp, or sports camp like most kids, went to, Kaoru and I were shuffled off to what was called a "program for gifted and talented youth", whatever that means. We were both in the writer's group, and shared a set of bunk beds in the Garrett (which is what we called the notoriously crummy writer's dorm). We were both in that idealistic phase that sets in between fourteen and eighteen. For us, the world was our oyster, painted in gleaming colors and strewn with riches. We, though our deathless prose, intended to collect all that was due to us. As we would like awake at night in our bunk beds, we would talk about practical things at first, like becoming journalists. As it got later and later, the wilder dreams would come out--we both wanted to become novelists. We were both so similar in so many respects, that it was no surprise to me when we both wanted to write the same kind of books--fantasy. I suppose that from there, we didn't have too far to fall. Plot lines of favorite stories were hashed over, and though it was never spoken, there was always a deep undercurrent of "It should be us". It's all coming clearer now that I think back. Kaoru was the one to start in the believing, and it all began with a dream.

"It was so beautiful, Misao!" she said, her face still flushed from sleep but her eyes bright with excitement. "There was a City," and she pronounced the capital letter, "Made out of steel and copper and glass, all blue and gold in the brightest, clearest sunlight you could believe. It was so _alive_, with people walking around everywhere--werewolves and Kitsune and angels and demons!" she paused to catch her breath. " I _have_ to write about it. I mean, this could be my big break of an idea!"

She never did write about it, though she did keep dreaming--and daydreaming. She fleshed out the City, from its magnificent canals to its gleaming skyscrapers to the way it was ruled. It was beautiful, a real masterwork of world-building, and I had to join in. We found characters together, and they became more real every day. The warring factions of werewolves were discovered, and the solemn orders of Dragons that could take human form at will. Really, to us, it was all real. Finally, I uncovered the figure who would be the most important in our little world: the Celes. It was a position, rather than a specific person, though we only ever met one, but that was enough. The Celes was something like a combination of a spy, a Lady of high society, and a free-lance diplomat., all wrapped up into one cool, graceful package. The Celes, being a woman in a society that often resorted to physical violence, had a male protector called a Blade, who saw to her every need. It was a glorious fantasy, taking off by itself and growing every time we talked about it, which was as often as we could. Still, I have to say, it became so much more interesting when the 'characters' started to talk back. Aman Elaine, the Celes we had made, was the first. We loved her, loved the ideas behind her. She was tall and slender, pale as the moon, with ice-white hair falling past her waist and pulled back with heavy rings of solid gold. Her eyes were a luminous blue. She was beautiful, and when she spoke to me, as Kaoru and I lounged on the Garrett's porch, talking animatedly about werewolf politics, I was startled, to say the least. I hadn't really believed like Kaoru had, not until then. Call us insane if you want, but that's how it happened.

What Aman talked to me about that first day isn't really important. What matters is that it kept happening, and it that brought others from the City to talk with us. There was Ritchie, a vaguely androgynous werewolf who was always fun, if a little wild, Animus, Aman's guardian and consort, Dar'ell, always conflicted and sad, and what seemed like a thousand other characters in this most elaborate of daydreams. The characters, or people, or whoever they were…you couldn't be sure of anything around them. There were people that acted like gods, even a few who took their names from ancient gods (or were the ancient gods. Who were we to say?), and others whose names were as normal, or more normal, than mine or Kaoru's. It sounds like we took a lot of time with this, doesn't it? We did, but it was all packed together as tightly as possible into just two weeks. It was then, halfway through the program, that things started to get really freaky. Or, at least, freaky for me. Still ever the skeptic, even while these wonderful people were telling me about their strange ways and lives, I was never sure if they were real or not. In the darkest hours of the night, after Kaoru had finally collapsed from exhaustion, sometimes I wondered if we weren't both a little insane. My family had always disapproved of my obsession with the fantastic, but neither I nor they had thought it would drive me mad.

Really, it was almost relief when things started appearing. Of course, they were just small things: a silk scarf that matched Kaoru's eyes, pretty baubles and bangles for the two of us, even a gold-nibbed fountain pen for each of us and a crystal bottle of glossy black ink (which were so much nicer than the stubby black ball-points we had been using). The gifts were flattering and lovely, and we glowed with pride to be part of such a beautiful secret. Other kids in the program were in awe of the little gifts, so much that we had to start hiding them and inventing wealthy aunts to pay for them. I never could stop using my fountain pen, though. The prose just seemed to flow out in a clear stream of words, and going back to crummy ball-points would have been torture. The presents weren't from Aman, we knew for sure, but when we asked her about them, she became cryptic and closed. Kaoru and I, of course, were romantics. The presents were obviously courting gifts from the princes of the City. We would become their lovers, mistresses, concubines, their anything or their everything. I became just as caught up in the game as she was, and we nearly stopped sleeping altogether, choosing instead of stay up late into the night and spin stories or talk with one of our otherworldly friends. Other pleasures were abandoned. We picked at our meals, whispering to each other the secrets our Otherworld held for us, Kaoru stopped going to the volleyball pitch, and my own writing, creative or not, stopped completely.

The strangest thing is, nobody seemed to notice. We had dropped off the map for the teachers and students, and though we kept showing up for a few bites of food at meals, we let them forget us. Our game, not so little anymore, was more interesting to us than anything they could offer. Still, we were worried. The final week of the program was ending, and though the counselors didn't recognize us, we were sure our own parents would. Since Kaoru and I lived at opposite ends of the state, separation was going to be a problem for both of us. We could still access the City without each other, but half the magic, half the joy, was lost when we were apart. We tried to find solutions. Letters were too slow, email or IM too impersonal and dead. Long-distance phone was out of the question, because neither of us had cell phones, or even cheap long-distance service. We didn't even know if or when we could reunite! Looking at all of this, and knowing how worried she was by all of this, I guess it was almost a mercy when Kaoru was taken.

We shared bunk beds, so when the second-to-last day dawned, I knew immediately that she was missing. The room was quiet and still, and somehow I knew that she wasn't just in the bathroom. All the jewelry she had been given, her scarf and her ink pen, all these had vanished with her. And when I screamed for Aman, for anyone in the City, there was only silence. I'd never felt so alone or so afraid. I make it worse, I still was invisible to the rest of the camp--and they didn't know I was gone, either. I wandered through the morning, hovering on the edge of classes and activities, always just a ghost. I'm back here in my room now, writing with my ghostly pen in the strange new book that just appeared. Leather bound and heavy, with thick, creamy pages, it's like nothing I've ever seen before in my life. It's the kind of book that just begs to be written on, and thought I had never even dreamed of telling our story before, I sat down to write just as the sun was setting in a tawny blaze. The words have tumbled out almost faster than I could catch. As I draw to the close of my story, I feel tired, faded and worn. Aside from this book and my pen, there is no sign that I am not crazy. Writing it all down makes it seem like some strange, frightening story, and one that isn't particularly believable anyway. Kaoru, with all her belief, might be able to do a better job. I just don't know. This book is far from empty. Its wide, smooth pages are blank and perfect, and I wish that I had something worth putting on them, but now that this last story of mine is told, I too am blank. There is nothing in front of me that I can see or dream, and though we were sure our parents would recognize us, I'm not nearly so sure now. Kaoru is gone, and if whoever or whatever started all of this wants me to remain unnoticed, I don't think I'll ever be normal again.

I should probably feel guilty about this, but I'm actually jealous of Kaoru. Was it that her real belief in the City that let her cross over instead of me? Was it because she was more imaginative? Did she please her otherworldly patron more? I don't have any answers. I'm still trying to resign myself to my fate, but honestly, I don't know what I'll do. I mean, I'm as social as a person can be…But it's useless to worry about that now. The story is finished, and I've still got a few more days here at camp before I have to think about where I'm going next. Presuming that this book can be noticed by those untouched by the City, this book is the last little bit of legacy a girl who disappears can have. Remember me and remember Kaoru. I don't really know what happened to us, but if you can read this, please don't forget us.

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Misao leaned back from the desk she had hunched over while the words poured from her pen. Weary and wrung-out, she shook the cramps out of her hand and rubbed the angry red welt that had been her writer's callous. Her eyes were grainy and sore, but she still had the strength to glare at the book. She wondered if she were the only person who could see it. That would be the perfect irony, she supposed. Misao was just contemplating levering her tired body out of the hard wooden chair and collapsing into bed when she wasn't alone anymore. The intruder was tall and thin, his hair dark and his eyes breathtakingly intense. Misao was so exhausted that it took her a full thirty seconds of staring at the man to realize that a pair of feathered wings sprouted from his back. They were huge and brushed with every shade of grey imaginable, from a deep stormy color to the most delicate of pearl greys. He was obviously from the City. Misao marshaled her flagging strength.

"Who the hell are you?" she spat, "And where have you taken Kaoru?" The strange man chuckled, a sound at odds with his somber, ascetic face.

"I was not the one who took your friend, Little One. In fact, it would be downright…dangerous for me to try. Now, Little One, I'm here for you." Misao's eyes widened. _Beware of what you wish for… _She backed away as far as her small room would allow, hands raised in front of her.

"What do you want with me?"

"Why, little Misao…Your friend wasn't so suspicious. And you're right, that's exactly why we were able to take her earlier. However, I do not go back on promises I've made, and I gave my word to the Lady Aman that you would be protected." He extended his hand invitingly. Misao stood frozen, fear and awe rooting her to the ground. The winged man continued.

"All of this, I fear, is my fault. My associate planted the dreams in your friend's mind, we both tempted you with companionship and inspiration, even cut you off from this world. You still have a choice, you know. You can live as a ghost in this world, or you can come with me and live as a queen and a sorceress. Your will, your imagination, will build worlds from nothing, worlds real enough to live in." His eyes grew shadowed. "I…would not wish for you to stay here, little Misao. For a ghost, this world can be a very dangerous place…And for a Lady with your power of imagination, your finesse and skill," He moved closer, and Misao couldn't find it in her to resist. "My world can be anything you want it to be. You will, of course, need a tutor, but there have been other Creators from your world, and myself and my associate will be more than willing to…help you adjust," Misao had to admit, the offer was insanely tempting. How could it not be? There was nothing for her here, and there never would be anything. This man was offering her what any sane writer would give their right arm for! Jeweled images of green mountains, deep forests and deeper skies stirred in her mind. She wanted this. She wanted this more than anything. And…something about this winged man spoke to far more than just her aesthetic senses. The lilt and cadence of his voice alone sent her fingers itching, and she wasn't sure it was to capture the man with words, so she could keep him for when she was alone, or to trace the line of his jaw and neck, to memorize his skin and scent and feel, to never be alone again. She settled for taking a scraping step closer, looking up at him in awe. He was, after all, an angel.

"I…accept." The words forced themselves out of her mouth without command from her mind. She took his hand, and was enfolded into his arms and wings faster than she could blink. He stared into her eyes, baring her soul to him, and Misao barely noticed as the world she knew dropped away to the sound of wing-beats. She thought she heard Kaoru's voice, greeting her joyfully, and she saw a searing image of a luminous woman that only nominally resembled her friend. Before, Kaoru had been reasonably pretty, but now…Now worlds burned in her eyes. She twirled around, drinking in the jewel-colors of the City that spread out before her. Flashes of blue and copper light filled her eyes. The old world dropped away, and a thousand new ones rose up to greet their creator. She was home.

Author's Notes: I wrote this after I got ambushed by a particuarily viscious plot bunny in the Dutch city of Leiden. This was actually the last peice of writing I did in Europe, though I did write a chapter of IDQ in the air. This story is written for my friend Momo--now if only it would happen to us!


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